Mar 2018
What is the point in
Poignancy?
Fragment,
you tell me.
Another one in paragraph three.
What do words matter?
I have spelled love with Lilacs instead of an “L”
I have drawn the curve of my “O” with the chill of a
Sweeping breeze.
A “V” can only appear as the violet of a
sparkling sky, or I will be unable to read it,
and every “E” will amount to nothing more than
emptiness if the voice it has been given
does not epitomize song.
Comma-splice,
Replace it with a semicolon.
I am trying live freely.
I want to breathe in color,
to inhale an orange Savannah sky
And exhale green which
shows through the translucent dew
of grass.
Unnecessary use of description.
Limit it, Lidiah. Limit it.
My fingers itch with the ferocity of
A vengeful army.
They are waiting to trample pages with
The lead of my pencil, the bayonet
of a Revolutionary-War-era rifle.
The word limit sounds like tragedy.
A single word that can somehow act as
a precursor,
To the death of passion.
Your words have put you in a box.
People always say
“Actions speak louder than words.”
In a way that is true.
But I also know it to be
a tremendous piece of fiction.
Lidiah,
Please watch your run-ons.
Why can our words and our actions
not be the same thing?
Isn’t the act of speaking,
the act of raising your voice,
the act of being heard,
isn’t that an action?
Lidiah,
how many times do I have to remind you?
Clarification throughout.
Why have we decided that our words
Mean nothing more than
stepping stones on the road to action?
When did we decide that our voices
which rise like clarion calls,
forever instilling our promises,
are to be left on silent?
Precious jewels set into rings.
Poison in a water tank.
Lidiah,
what you say is irrelevant
if your MLA bibliography isn’t in
alphabetical order.
Our words are our actions.
They mean the same.
Words are the distinctions of our beliefs
Illustrations of our personas
They are not mosquitos to be slapped away
and forgotten.
Lidiah,
paragraph five is too long.
Stop rambling.
Be concise.
Please tell me,
what is the point of being concise?
Lidiah,
stop rambling.
Why do we let justification
equate to useless rambling?
Lidiah,
you have to detach yourself from the narrative.
Feelings mean more
than a couple of sentences.
More than a good or a bad.
A mad or a sad.
Comma-splice
What about ferocity?
Never end with a preposition.
What about passion?
Replace this with a conjunctive adverb.
What about the discernable strife
that follows even indifference?
What about that?
Lidiah,
what is the point of
Poignancy?
What are we without it?
What does the human soul matter
if we have forsaken the parts of ourselves that
remind us of what a soul is for?
Lidiah,
you will never be heard
if you do not learn to follow the rules.
Poignancy?
Fragment,
you tell me.
Another one in paragraph three.
What do words matter?
I have spelled love with Lilacs instead of an “L”
I have drawn the curve of my “O” with the chill of a
Sweeping breeze.
A “V” can only appear as the violet of a
sparkling sky, or I will be unable to read it,
and every “E” will amount to nothing more than
emptiness if the voice it has been given
does not epitomize song.
Comma-splice,
Replace it with a semicolon.
I am trying live freely.
I want to breathe in color,
to inhale an orange Savannah sky
And exhale green which
shows through the translucent dew
of grass.
Unnecessary use of description.
Limit it, Lidiah. Limit it.
My fingers itch with the ferocity of
A vengeful army.
They are waiting to trample pages with
The lead of my pencil, the bayonet
of a Revolutionary-War-era rifle.
The word limit sounds like tragedy.
A single word that can somehow act as
a precursor,
To the death of passion.
Your words have put you in a box.
People always say
“Actions speak louder than words.”
In a way that is true.
But I also know it to be
a tremendous piece of fiction.
Lidiah,
Please watch your run-ons.
Why can our words and our actions
not be the same thing?
Isn’t the act of speaking,
the act of raising your voice,
the act of being heard,
isn’t that an action?
Lidiah,
how many times do I have to remind you?
Clarification throughout.
Why have we decided that our words
Mean nothing more than
stepping stones on the road to action?
When did we decide that our voices
which rise like clarion calls,
forever instilling our promises,
are to be left on silent?
Precious jewels set into rings.
Poison in a water tank.
Lidiah,
what you say is irrelevant
if your MLA bibliography isn’t in
alphabetical order.
Our words are our actions.
They mean the same.
Words are the distinctions of our beliefs
Illustrations of our personas
They are not mosquitos to be slapped away
and forgotten.
Lidiah,
paragraph five is too long.
Stop rambling.
Be concise.
Please tell me,
what is the point of being concise?
Lidiah,
stop rambling.
Why do we let justification
equate to useless rambling?
Lidiah,
you have to detach yourself from the narrative.
Feelings mean more
than a couple of sentences.
More than a good or a bad.
A mad or a sad.
Comma-splice
What about ferocity?
Never end with a preposition.
What about passion?
Replace this with a conjunctive adverb.
What about the discernable strife
that follows even indifference?
What about that?
Lidiah,
what is the point of
Poignancy?
What are we without it?
What does the human soul matter
if we have forsaken the parts of ourselves that
remind us of what a soul is for?
Lidiah,
you will never be heard
if you do not learn to follow the rules.
